


No Light

by stevesdollbaby



Series: Where Do We Go From Here? [1]
Category: Marvel, Supernatural, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angels vs. Demons, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crossover, Dark Past, Death, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, Explicit Language, F/M, Flashbacks, Hell Trauma, Hunters & Hunting, Male-Female Friendship, Men of Letters Bunker (Supernatural), Mental Health Issues, Monsters, More tags to be added, Nightmares, Past Relationship(s), Past Sexual Abuse, Past Torture, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Avengers, Protective Steve Rogers, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, Scars, Suicide Attempt, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:01:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29457933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stevesdollbaby/pseuds/stevesdollbaby
Summary: Your whole life had been one dark room and you were never the one to share your past. Especially not with your team. After everything, you just had to leave and start over. You’d ended up in New York and joined the Avengers — saving people, hunting things, it wasn’t much different than what you grew up with. But it was a change of pace for you, another chance. When your old friend, Sam Winchester called you in the middle of the night, you knew there was something wrong. So you packed up and left with only a note behind.As your past and your present collide, you knew the truth was about to rear its ugly head.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader, James “Bucky” Barnes/Reader, Natasha Romanov/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader, Tony Stark/Reader
Series: Where Do We Go From Here? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2164341





	No Light

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Thank you for choosing to read my story!
> 
> I’d like to point out that this series will not be following any timeline. It’s all purely fiction!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a sucker for crossovers so hopefully this will turn out the way I plan.

You awoke to an incessant buzzing to your right and your sleeping limbs twitched in alert. Your mind was slow to catch up, but your eyes eventually peeled themselves open as you blindly reached for your phone. In your groggy state, you peered at the caller ID and immediately shot up in a sitting position, your back going rod-straight. You were definitely awake now. 

_Sam Winchester._ Sam was calling you, in the dead of night. Dread and anxiety suddenly bubbled up inside your chest as you gnawed on your lower lip. Nothing good would come out of his mouth, that you knew for sure. Nothing good ever came from a phone call out of the blue. And from an old friend you’d hadn’t spoken to in a long time, no less. With a shaky breath, you pressed the green button and slowly pressed the device to your ear. 

“Sam?” You answered, hesitantly.

”Hey, Y/N. Did I wake you?” He replied. 

“Kinda, but it doesn’t matter. What’s wrong?” You couldn’t hide the worry in your tone no matter how hard you tried. 

The silence on the other end was deafening. You were about to hiss his name, but his grim tone cut you off. “It’s Dean, Y/N.” 

“What happened?”

“It’s about the Mark. He’s. . . he’s not himself.” Sam said and he sounded tired. So, so tired. 

The mention of the Mark made your heart stop inside your chest. The Mark of Cain was the sole reason why you couldn’t stick around anymore. It tore you and Dean apart, both physically and emotionally. Ever since Cain had transferred the cursed thing to Dean after being deemed _worthy_ , the man you loved became the man you feared, and feared for. He’d been so hellbent on killing Abaddon that he didn’t care to think about the consequences then. He just wanted her dead. Before he and Crowley ventured off to find the Father of Murder himself, you tried _so hard_ to convince him otherwise, that you could find another way to end it once and for all. But nothing turned out quite like what you’d hoped for. Then again, nothing ever did, not with the life you’d lived anyway.

For weeks, you watched the love of your life become a completely different person. He still acted like the old Dean, but you noticed the shifts in his demeanor. You always noticed. All those times when you’d asked if he was okay, he’d tell you the same lie over and over again. _I’m fine, Y/N. Don’t worry about me._

You’d known him for long enough to know the Winchester equivalent to ‘ _I’m fine_ ’ meant the exact opposite. Every case you’d gone on after that, his thirst to kill became more and more apparent. A few silver bullets wasted into the chest of a werewolf became a dozen more than necessary. He became a little too stab-happy when taking down a shifter. It was as if his mind was clouded in all his pent up rage corroded over a lifetime was spent in the already-lifeless corpses of monsters. His lips would curl up into a malicious snarl, the candy-apple green color of his eyes you’d loved so much would dissolve into pure darkness. Pure hatred. And on top of all that, he’d become angry with you quicker than you could wrap your head around. In all your years spent together, never once had Dean ever lashed out at you. Hell, he hardly ever raised his voice when it came to you. Sure, there were the fights, but they were all stupid and minuscule. You always made up at the end of night so neither one of you went to bed angry at each other, especially since you shared the same bed. 

He drank more (more so than a Winchester would) and he spaced out a lot. Dean was. . . Dean, but not at the same time, like his anger had been amplified to a thousand. And all because of that fucking Mark. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, “Please tell me he’s not—“ 

Oh, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. Not if it was true. 

“No, he’s not. . . dead. Anymore.” Sam muttered the last part. 

“Anymore? Anymore? What do you mean, Sam?” You suddenly snapped. 

He sighed heavily, “Look. We finally managed to kill Abaddon. Dean killed her with the First Blade, but he wasn’t done. So he went after Metatron and he. . . he killed Dean. I was too late to stop it. The Mark brought him back. As a demon.” 

You felt as if all the air had been knocked out of your lungs. _Dean? As a demon? Your Dean?_ So many emotions bubbled up inside you and you felt the urge to scream, cry, kick, and break things, but you couldn’t risk anyone hearing you and barging in. Especially not with the two super-soldiers sleeping on both sides of your bedroom walls. And FRIDAY would definitely alert the others. You had to take a deep breath, you needed to calm down.

With your heart thundering against your ribcage, you finally spoke, “I’m on my way.” You threw back the covers from your legs and shot up from your bed in a hurry. You made a beeline for your closet and almost immediately snatched your duffle bag from the top shelf.

“Y/N. . .”

”That’s why you called, right? You need my help. And you shouldn’t deal with this alone.” You said determinedly, stuffing heaps of clothes into your duffle. You supposed you’d be gone for a while. 

“It’s gonna be dangerous. _He’s_ dangerous. And once we find him, it won’t be pretty.”

”I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get him back, Sammy. We’ll get him back. We have to because he’d do it for us.” You made your way to the bathroom and starting to throw in all the necessary toiletries before zipping it up. 

“I know,” he said solemnly. “You’re right.” 

“I’ll be there as quick as I can. See you soon.” 

“Yeah, see you.” And the call ended. 

You sighed in frustration through your nose as you tossed your phone onto you bed along with your bag. Quickly, you stripped out of your oversized t-shirt you’d stolen from Bucky and threw on a pair of jeans, a tank top, and a dark blue flannel. If you were going to hunt again—really hunt—then you might as well look the part. 

After shoving your feet into a pair of boots, you were ready to leave. But you couldn’t exactly leave the compound without telling anybody, not with how overprotective as your team was. So you’ll leave a note instead, a short one. They’ll find it once they’ve realized you haven’t come down for breakfast in the morning. 

You grab a slip of paper from the drawer of your nightstand and a pen, jotting down that you were needed elsewhere and that you’d be okay. That they shouldn’t worry about you. Yet, in the back of your mind, you knew they’d most definitely try to track you down. So you made the rash decision to turn off your GPS. With that, you quietly slipped out of your room and made your way toward the elevator. 

“Ground floor, please, FRIDAY.” You said, stepping in.

“Right away, Miss Y/L/N. Going somewhere?” Her Irish accent rang through the air. 

“Just for a while. I’d appreciate if you kept this between us.” You replied nervously. “At least until I’m a hundred miles away or so.” It’d give you a big enough head start before Tony and Steve decided to haul ass after you. 

“Of course. Here we are,” the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. 

“Thank you. I’ll be back soon.” You nodded and hastily made your way toward the exit. And you were gone.


End file.
